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Category:
Action/Thriller
Publisher: David Pyle
ISBN-10: 0615860516
Type: Fiction
Pages: 480
Copyright: August 2013
ISBN-13: 9780615860510
Price: $4.99 (eBook)
Imagine being able to pick up or touch an object and in a few moments time, know everything there is to know about it. Imagine not knowing you were predisposed to haptic sensitivity until some stressor plunged you into a world you weren’t prepared for.
Imagine being able to pick up or touch an object and in a few moments time, know everything there is to know about it. Imagine not knowing you were predisposed to haptic sensitivity until some stressor plunged you into a world you weren’t prepared for.
Nathan Heart, youngest of five siblings, has come to ignore the freakish noises inside Heart Manor and the brutal rankles of his eldest sister over the last twelve months. Alone, after watching the decline of his mother during the last stages of Alzheimer’s, and the duress of fulfilling the last wishes of her Will, his only hope is to sell the estate and be free of his indentured bondage.
Refusing to accept supernatural explanations for strange happenings in the empty mansion, Nathan feels he may have inherited his parent’s genome of insanity, causing the noises to take on a different meaning.
On the verge of seeking professional help for the unthinkable, Nathan Heart is thrown a lifeline. The house is sold, but the new owners have attached a web of strings that will hurtle him down a rabbit hole he never knew existed.
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Excerpt
Minutes
David Pyle
This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.
MINUTES. Copyright © 2013 by David Pyle. All rights reserved. Printed in the Unites States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever or stored in a database or retrieval system, without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
FIRST EDITION
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for.
ISBN-10: 0615860516
ISBN-13: 978-0615860510
To the Adventurous Soul..
Minutes
PROLOGUE
Lounging in his favorite paisley wingback chair, sipping on a cup of sorrows, Nathan Heart stared out over the neatly manicured front lawn.
Tock…
Tock…
Tock…
Mixed with the hours of oblique silence, that incessant sound of the antique clock was going to drive him right over the edge. If the immovable debacle wasn’t a sentimental family heirloom, it would have been in the dumpster months ago. But the fact was, it happened to be a hard won prize between siblings after a lengthy cold war over his dead mother; Marion Heart’s estate.
It stood like a vertical coffin, a constant reminder that time was slipping away, smoothly, silently, unnoticed.
Even though days ago he’d turned the age of thirty, Nathan had the morbid sensation of being dragged by a chain to the brink of the eternal. This loneliness had become an empty chasm with a razor’s trim hidden by the darkness that had formed in his mind over the course of the last eleven months. It was the emptiness he couldn’t seem to find release from.
With a deep breath, Nathan focused on what was in front of him for the umpteenth time. It was that ornate Heart Realty For Sale sign hammered into the ground on the distant front lawn that drew his annoyed attention. Standing just a little askew, there were several streaky deposits of white spew coloring the back surface, donations from recent clouds of blackbirds.
“Marion,” he whispered under his breath, forcing himself to look away.
Such a free spirit. Nathan shook his head and chuckled to himself, then quickly repented.
It was Jonas Heart Jr., Nathan’s elder brother, he truly missed after all was said and done. His relationship with his only brother was now non-existent.
As Executor of Marion Heart’s estate, Nathan had been the one required, no…, sentenced, to act as negotiator, peacemaker, and referee to the five children of Marion Heart.
All the other children had moved on well before her passing…, yet here he sat, on the open veranda of the second story bedroom, looking out over the expanse in front of him.
Why hadn’t he married early and started a family like all the others? Why didn’t he move off to parts unknown, far from his childhood home?
Like a flood, all the memories of the last three years sprayed back into his thoughts, ever repeating in retching reiteration.
Their mother…, his mother, once vibrant, active in the community…, was finally at peace. First came the dementia, then memory loss, then the incessant chatter to her invisible friends.
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he took another sip.
Somehow, he had drawn the short straw by vote; probably an angry collusion between the others. He was the youngest, the one most available to be the caregiver. The estate had ample funds to pay for private care, but none of the other children were willing to watch their portion of the estate dwindle away to some local Rest Haven for an unknown length of years.
Yes, Nathan had been available. The most obvious choice. After Nathan’s few failed relationships there was no marriage, no children, and no distant career in another state.
Available.
Now he was living in the old family estate in the middle of nowhere, house sitting, with his life on hold while there were no prospective buyers for miles. None of the locals would even consider purchasing the old home and property, because of the rumors…, and well to be honest…, the way Marion Heart died --
The way she died in the house.
CHAPTER ONE
Alone in the dying rays of the evening sun, Nathan Heart sank further down into the wing back chair, pulling his wrap tighter.
It was one of the few remaining pieces of furniture from the estate. After the reading of the Will, the house had been all but swept clean of anything remotely valuable, leaving him to the empty footfalls of memories inside this long held family jewel.
The evening air brought with it a chill of fall. September was officially here and along with it would come the religiously regular rainfall near the northwestern coastline of Oregon. For Nathan, it signaled another bleak winter season, alone in an unsold house and another season with his life put on hold.
Behind him, the telephone began to ring, along with every extension in every other empty room in the house. After the second ring, he casually looked over his shoulder, then back out at the last red cast of the sun on the horizon. The faintest of chatter began downstairs as the answering machine picked up the call, making its dutiful announcement for Heart Real Estate.
The family had reluctantly allowed him to setup his office here, temporarily offsetting his expenses. After all, he was maintaining an office and providing the service of selling the estate at the same time.
How thoughtful.
The blessing quickly became a trap and a curse of course.
Irregular visits and constant phone messages from his family, hinted that he wasn’t trying to sell the house, or that it might be a good idea for him to buy the estate himself. Then he could divide the proceeds among the other four children and his portion could be the down payment.
Again, Nathan quipped angrily, “How thoughtful.”
Oddly enough, his portion of the Heart Estate had never been spoken of after the furniture and valuables quickly vacated the premises. As a Realtor, he had seen this type of behavior time and time again. Blood was always thicker than water, but never thicker than greed among siblings.
Nathan stepped back pulling the chair inside, slowly closed the veranda doors, then intently listened to the downstairs recorder as his sister Josie’s voice droned on. She finished leaving him a message, instructions actually, another inventive scheme to help him sell the house.
For two cents, he would gladly give up his portion and let one of the others, his faithful older brother or one of his three sisters, sell the house or get another realtor. At the very mention of this idea to his family, there was an immediate retraction of their comments and suggestions. There were extended realty fees and commissions to consider if another agency were to control the property. And of course, none of them could afford to drop their lifestyle to occupy or maintain the house or the extensive grounds themselves. There was also a small matter of pride for Nathan. The only other independent realtor in the town of Lumberton Oregon was his competitor….
How would that look? Allowing his only competition to sell a prime piece of property, a historical landmark, his family property, in his town? That would blacken his reputation and his pride.
But this house….
This house - two and a half stories, huge attic and basement, of creaky, noisy, elemental house. Nathan of course was accustomed to the usual creaks and moans. All old houses built during the early 1900’s settle and shift, no matter how well they are built and maintained.
Heart Manor was no exception. Secretly, he had considered renovating it into a bed and breakfast, using the local rumors for advertisement. But then, what of the family name? Local whispers could easily become area wide conversation, even all along the west coast where all his family lived. The idea swept away quickly with the thought of more helpful phone calls.
Tomorrow was his routine trip into Lumberton. Groceries for one, he reminded himself. The usual delivery of firewood for the coming season was tomorrow, Monday morning. He forced himself out of his comforter, folding it neatly over the tall back of the chair, closed the veranda doors and began the walk downstairs.
He pushed the void away momentarily, but the flood of emptiness came rushing in again as his steps echoed down the staircase.
“Nathan….”
He paused midway of the stairs and listened.
He must have tuned out the ringing of the telephone and halted in the silence for next the ensuing message on the answering machine.
He turned and glanced to his left, down to his open office door, still listening. This was his favorite enclave; the only completely furnished room in the house besides his bedroom.
Nothing…, no sound…, not even a dying echo.
The house was silent except for the distant sound of the grandfather clock; its reminder of passing moments.
“Crazy old house,” Nathan muttered.
Then he considered that the faux echo of his name could have been one of the many memories of Marion Heart calling out his name, calling for some tea, asking for one of her favorite books to hover over. She was such a creature of habit.
Then there were the other days where his mother would become a chatterbox, rattling on for hours on end about the past. Of all her favorite subjects, she always seemed to end up in some quiet reflections of Jonas Sr., the father Nathan never knew. Jonas Heart Sr. died when Nathan was barely two years old, in some field of battle; according to Marion during an act of heroism. She would point to the wall at the medals; the neatly folded American flag in the glass shadowbox on her bedroom wall. They were her most prized possessions.
Those days always ended the same as she finally drifted off to sleep while seated on her favorite loveseat, curled under a thick quilt.
His breath was short, his eyes unfocused, probably due to the hurried excursion down the stairs.
Nathan shook the cobwebs from his head and snatched his jacket from the coat tree in his office, striding for the front door.
The last two years came crushing down like a pressure cooker and it was the latches on the front door crackling that set him free.
He gasped in the chill air and bent over, hands on knees. If he didn’t get out of here soon, he’d be the first to follow his mother to the grave. The youngest of the five. How ironic would that be? There had to be some way to be free of this duty.
As his breathing slowed and mind cleared, he ripped on his chocolate leather jacket and hurried down the front steps in the twilight. The fresh air always freed his mind of the past, that and the natural stone path that led around the perimeter of the estate. It was too late to walk the entire trek before darkness fell, but it was better than the darkness he’d just escaped.
Night came quickly, enhanced by the bosky tall spruce and thick noble pines around the periphery and along the back of the property. An evening wind was rising along the path, pinching at his cheeks, forcing him to return before his feet took him a few hundred yards.
A hopeful thought thumped him; tonight would be a good night for a drive along the coast and he rammed his hand into his jacket pocket.
“Blast,” he hissed.
His car keys were on the desk inside his office. Despite his initial titer of hope, he’d have to go back inside to retrieve them.
As he rounded toward the front of the house, the outdoor lighting flicked on, illuminating the shrubs shrouding the spacious perimeter as well as the sweeping oval of the front porch. Two enormous shadowed lions cast in stone sat on either side of the two stanch pillars, mouths agape in a perpetual silent roar.
The telephone was ringing.
Nathan stopped at the bottom porch step and looked at his wristwatch with a sigh. It had to be Josie calling again. If he let the phone call go to the answering machine, there would be no end to the chides, no matter how valid his excuse.
The door clicked shut with a loud bump behind him as he hurried to his office.
“Heart Realty,” he answered, snatching the phone from its cradle.
“You sound as if you were running. Did I catch you at a bad time?”
The sarcasm was unmistakable.
“Hello Josie. I was outside.”
“In this bluster? I doubt that.”
Nathan looked at the small ring of keys on the corner of his desk and snatched them into his hand. If only he’d had them pocketed in his jacket.
“The weather’s bad there?”
“I didn’t call to chat about the weather. I called to find out what you thought of my idea. Didn’t you get my message?” she asked.
“I just walked in the house Josie.”
Nathan heard the begrudged sigh of her voice. It was the first of September and evidently his eldest sister had just looked over her end of August tally. It was beyond him how she could have squandered her portion of inheritance so quickly. It was unlikely her husband Charles and two perfect children were the cause.
“I would ask you to listen to it and then call me back but that would be too presumptuous on my part. In any case, I spoke to one of Charles’ associates and he assured me that mother’s estate could have easily been sold by now if you had posted its availability in an MLS database. The listing is only around $8000, which is more than reasonable considering the estate is appraised at over five million. It serves as the total fee instead of the usual seven percent. He said he would be willing to walk you through the process if you don’t know how.”
Nathan gritted his teeth and held the phone away to suck in a breath before speaking. He was licensed in seven states, a professional, it wasn’t his lack of experience or talent…, it was the house.
“We’ve been over this once or twice before Josie. If you want me to do the listing through someone else, then I’ll call and get a quote. We can divide the cost between….”
“Divide the cost?” she spat.
Why, oh why didn’t he let this call roll to the answering machine? His head began to throb along his temples.
“Josie, do you honestly expect me to assume all the expense, considering….”
“You’ve lived there in mother’s old house for three years now, rent free I might add. How can you expect the rest of us to forfeit a single dime to assist in selling it?”
“Josie. Do I need to remind you that two of those three years were spent caring for Marion? For which I didn’t receive a cent?”
He wanted to add that it was only Caroline, the youngest sibling that ever visited or offered herself during their mother’s last days.
“Yes well, we all see how that turned out and you managed to have her alter her Will in those last few months, naming you as Executor to the estate.”
Nathan felt the dizzy of his blood pressure rising.
“The estate was divided equally, just as mother intended.”
Actually, it wasn’t quite equal and everyone knew it. Josie Clarion hissed into the phone and uttered a mass of angry unintelligible gibberish to someone beside her.
“It seems you’ve drawn us off topic again Nathan. We were discussing the quickest way to dispense with that wretched property.”
“If you think your husband’s friend can sell the house any quicker, then I suggest you pay his fee and turn it over to him. I can move out within the week. As you well know, I only have a few items to pack and….”
“Nonsense! And leave the house empty and abandoned for derelicts or riffraff to destroy?” she grunted.
“Josie, what exactly do you expect from me?” sighed Nathan.
“I want that place sold. For the good of all concerned,” she added.
“Believe me. So do I.”
“Jonas and Rachael are with me on this.”
But not Caroline, she wouldn’t be party to this ongoing collusion. Nathan was ready to hang up and move out, possibly even abandon his only portion of inheritance in the old estate. But that would play right into his elder sisters’ intentions.
“I have a dinner party arriving. I’ll speak to you later this week. Maybe you’ll reconsider my advice and have it sold by then.”
After Nathan hung up the phone, he slowly released an iron grip on the jagged tag of keys unconsciously cupped in his hand.
His palm stung from the death grip on their angry edges as they jangled noisily into a large ceramic cup on the edge of his desk.
When would this end?
He ran his long fingers through neatly trimmed hair, trying to see a means through the dark tunnel encasing him.
The old clock in the vestibule began to hammer out seven hard blows to announce the time. As the dying echo reverberated into to the empty cavern, his breath seemed to tighten in his chest and his head spun.
Nathan spilled the ceramic catchall across his desk and snatched his keys. Once again, he hurried for the front door, but not before kicking the leaden base of the old clock for good measure.
CHAPTER TWO
The two eldest of the Heart clan had quickly claimed the twin gray Mercedes’ parked in the garage the day after the reading of the Will. The two remaining vehicles were too…, utilitarian for their needs.
The truth was…, the bright red Cadillac XLR convertible and an older putrid green Buick Special were in need of repairs. Instead of auctioning them off for quick cash, Nathan was given the option to keep them. Which he did. The Cadillac was Marion’s favorite. The compact little convertible was her poison of choice for Sunday drives along the Oregon coast. His black Yukon, geared for foul weather and unlovely terrain, sat quiet and rarely used in the nearest stall.
The convertible cranked without hesitation; he pushed the lever and made sure the tan cover was climbing into place. Then the heavy wooden garage door grunted smoothly into motion and Nathan ducked underneath it onto the paved drive.
He was met instantly with a stiff whip of wind and stepped out to have a look toward the lower elevations to the west. Far in the distant sky, there was a flicker of light that might have been the old lighthouse off Ramses Sound. The low rumble of thunder quickly dispelled that myth and he hurried back to the hungrily idling car.
He had to admit, he loved the thought of taking it out for a drive through the heavily forested roads, away from the memories and responsibilities.
Twelve twisted miles west of Lumberton, Highway 101 came into sight just as his windshield was pelted with cold splatters of rain. The car radio crackled and came on of its own accord at a nearby shard of lightning. That was nothing new; he let it play.
Another ten minutes and he was parked in front of the Blind Pirate watching couples make mad dashes through the encroaching rain toward the front awning. The old seafood tavern was the most popular along the pacific coast highway, with occasional live music and a relaxed atmosphere.
He folded up his collar and jogged inside just behind an elderly couple.
“Nate! Heckuva night to see you out,” barked the rotund bear of a man.
He stuck out his hand to swat Nathan’s shoulder before hurrying back behind the long scarred bar.
“Hey Troy,” mumbled Nathan as he sat near the end of the bustling room.
“The usual?”
Nathan nodded and Troy slid him a mug of cold draft.
Troy’s speckled gray beard wiggled and he leaned close, “The sisters run you out of the house again?”
Nathan grinned over his first sip of beer, then nodded. Funny how some people were so gifted in reading others. It was probably because all the old bartender did during the day was entertain people’s expressions.
“You gonna eat something or just lollygag here at the bar?”
“Just put me in the queue and I’ll wait my turn,” said Nathan.
Troy laughed and turned to wiggle a finger at one of his waitresses.
“Don’t give me your city talk. With this landing pattern you’ll be waitin’ for a table all night.”
A familiar young brunette worked her way through the milling crowd and leaned over the bar close enough to hear Troy blurt out his orders.
“Lisa, escort Mr. Heart here over to the corner table and don’t take no guff off him either.”
The quiet young girl smiled and took off at a quick pace through the crowd, Nathan hot on her heels.
As soon as he sat down, she plopped down a menu and grabbed Nathan’s half-swilled mug and walked away. He caught himself staring at her long model’s legs instead to hurrying to stop her. With the din of noise, it was probably useless to protest.
Soon a freshly filled mug was in front of him, he ordered, and the young lady quickly disappeared again.
The lights flickered and the walls rumbled a few times, then the world seemed to settle down to the steady volume of chatter as the storm front passed.
“Ya know, I could set you and little Lisa there up on a get together sometime if you’re interested,” barked Troy.
He sat down heavily in the groaning chair across from Nathan just as his food arrived. Lisa caught the last of the exchange and blushed while the platters of seafood clattered the table.
“I think Lisa might have something to say about that,” said Nathan, shoving a pinch of buttered lobster in his mouth.
Lisa walked away with an unmistakable smile on her face.
“She’d likely say yes,” Troy laughed. “How’re things with you this evening?”
“Better now,” grunted Nathan. “The walls were closing in.”
“Yep, ‘magine so. I miss seeing your old mom in here with you. She sure loved the fried oysters.”
Troy let his eyes follow Nathan’s fork up and down a few times, “Ya know…, it ain’t good for a young fella like yourself to be cooped up out at that old place….”
“Don’t you have somebody else to give advise to tonight?” asked Nathan.
Troy grinned, “Yeah, but they most likely won’t come back. You on the other hand; I can’t seem to run you off.”
“All I need is another critic,” mumbled Nathan. “You know…, I turn three or four major properties every month, but I can’t manage to give away the old Heart Manor.”
Troy shrugged his wide shoulders, “Maybe it’ll burn and you can collect insurance. Too many people around here know the history of that old house.” He leaned over closer and whispered loudly, “You know…, about your mother.”
Nathan tried not to choke on his bite while laughing.
“Don’t mince words Troy. Why don’t you just come right out and say what you mean?”
“I’m just sayin’.” He grinned and raised his hand, waving Lisa back over and holding up Nathan’s shallowly swishing beer mug when she passed by the table.
“Alzheimer’s can be an ugly thing,” mumbled Nathan, dotting his lips with a thick napkin.
“It weren’t the Alzheimer’s I was referrin’ to and you know it,” hissed Troy.
Nathan looked on angrily for just a moment, barely a moment, then let it drop. It wasn’t worth an argument.
“I gotta get back to work. When you think yer done, come sit at the bar and jaw awhile.”
Nathan nodded and threw a cash tip on the table.
The two men sat and talked over coffee between Troy’s barking orders at staff members. They were an unlikely pair, but somehow Troy had formed a fatherly attachment toward Nathan over the last few years. He had especially liked the company of Nathan’s mother, Marion. He called her a feisty old broad on several occasions, earning him sharp replies and a grin from the barely sixty-year-old woman. It was when she’d lost her favorite cameo pendant; that had been her last visit to the Blind Pirate and a defining milestone in her early decline.
Nathan looked at the time and stretched. No one from the family would be calling after ten p.m. unless it was an actual emergency. His cell phone was turned off, so there was little chance of them barging in on his evening.
“It’s early yet,” mumbled Troy. “Why don’t you stay and chat with some of the hired help while I help everybody get ready to close up shop?”
Nathan knew exactly what he was referring to. Troy was always trying to play matchmaker between him and one of his girls.
“No thanks. I have a heavy schedule tomorrow,” said Nathan.
The drive back didn’t take nearly as long, even with rain darkened pavement and patchy fog hovering across the lower areas.
All the security lights were radiating the huge perimeter and the old garage door groaned open on its own while Nathan waited in the idling Cadillac. The air was still dripping mist in the aftermath of the early autumn storm when he sauntered across the crunchy green lawn.
A mist-infused gust of wind whipped him and he halted to wipe away the spray of water. Above him a light flickered and he glanced toward it just in time to see the lamp in his bedroom window fall dark.
Was someone in the house? He hadn’t received a call from the alarm system. It was then he remembered his retired cell phone and turned it back on.
“You have no new messages,” chimed in his ear while he stood in the front yard; no text messages either. That meant the house was still intact; well at least the alarm hadn’t gone off. What of the light?
He opened the front door and flicked on the glaring overhead lights in the living room. The massive chandelier instantly sparkled shards of rainbow over the empty expanse. The only sound was the steady tock, tock, tock, of the eight foot tall clock, idling away the time near his shoulder. He would have stopped the pendulum dead long ago if not for the advice of the clocksmith in Salem. According to him, a timepiece as aged as this one might stop working or keeping accurate time if it stood still for even a few weeks. The value would be far reduced on a non-working antique.
Nathan flicked off the heavy lighting and turned up the thermostat a notch to accommodate the seasonal change in weather. His footfalls echoed down the dark hallways as he walked into the kitchen to put on some water for tea. Above his clamor he heard, “Nathan….”
The echo of his name caused him to lower his head, waiting for the rest of the message on the answering machine. His eyes froze on the wall phone in the kitchen. It hadn’t made a sound; none of the mass of phones rang.
Nathan turned off the heat to the whistling pot on the stove and hurried to his office. The bright red number 2 was flashing on his answering machine.
“Not tonight,” he grinned.
Just to be on the safe side he walked through the rest of the empty downstairs…, four bedrooms with walk-in closets, a library, living room, formal dining room, den, four bathrooms, the breakfast nook in the kitchen as well as the walk-in pantry. The security system was working, so all the windows were intact, no sign of an intruder and no place for anyone to hide.
“You’re losing it buddy,” he grinned at himself.
Upstairs the story was the same. None of the cavernous seven empty bedrooms were bothered, still barren and echoing his heavy steps down the wide hallway. Then he came to the eighth, his bedroom door, and halted. It was ajar, just barely. Nathan bumped it with his palm and it clicked shut. All the doors were hung and weighted to close automatically.
He turned the knob and rushed inside, slapping at the light switch on the wall.
The air was fresh and chill. The window on the other side of the veranda door was up just over a half inch, letting in the brisk air. He was suddenly relieved the upstairs alarm wasn’t armed.
Marion always asked for a window to be left cracked open even in the dead of winter. The thought made his head swim, even a little dizzy. The room looked untouched, immaculate.
His bed cover was still crisp, pillows perched where he’d left them. His clothes from the cleaners were still covered in clear plastic and hanging in the open closet. The veranda door was still closed. Heat began to gush in through the floor vent and he sighed a deep breath as he hurried to close the open window.
Just after it slammed shut, after he flipped the latches, just as he turned, the lamp beside the front window flickered on.
Nathan started, blinking at the soft glow of the lamp.
“What in blazes?”
He reached over and flipped the switch back off, then on again. It obeyed as he repeated the exercise several times. He shook the power cord and the light went off, then flickered back on of its own accord.
He unplugged it, quickly winding the cord around the base of the old ugly ceramic lamp, then sat it just outside in the hall. He didn’t want Troy’s prophecy to come true. All he needed was for a faulty lamp to start a fire and burn the whole place to the ground.
Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this preview.
Minutes is on sale at Amazon Books as well as Kindle at a substantially reduced price.
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